


Complications

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 20:20:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11342535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Mulder struggles to deal with the events of *Redux* and *Redux II* with the assistance of Skinner, bringing revelations and complications.





	Complications

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Complications by Gray Shadows

09 Feb 1998

Complications  
by Gray Shadows  


Rating: NC-17  
Classification: SA M/SK slash  
Keywords: Slash, MSkR - Mulder/Skinner Romance, Post-Episode  
Spoilers: Gethsemene, Redux, Redux II References to; One Breath, Avatar, Zero Sum  
Distribution: MSSS, atxc, Gossamer, okay. Anyone else, please ask first.  
Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, Dana Scully and other recognizable characters belong to Fox and Ten-Thirteen Productions and are borrowed without permission. If CC didn't want us filling in the blanks, he shouldn't have left so many blankety-blank, blanks. However, I am not making any profit from this story and no copyright infringement is intended.  
Personal Note: Special thanks to Laurie, Joe, and Griffin. Each took the time to read this story, and each made thoughtful comments and suggestions. Any errors remain mine.   
This is my first story. Good, Bad, or Indifferent - I'd love to hear your thoughts. All constructive criticism accepted with gratitude at   
Summary: Mulder struggles to deal with the events of Redux and Redux II with the assistance of Skinner, bringing revelations and complications.

* * *

Complications

Assistant Director Skinner walked out of his agent's room. Relief at Scully's remission brought a small smile to his face, relaxing his features. If he believed in them, he'd say it was a miracle. Whatever the cause, he was grateful for the reprieve, grateful for Scully, for himself, and for Mulder.

The sound of crepe soles against linoleum brought his attention to the hallway. Besides the nurse, entering a room further down the hall, only Mulder and himself were present. His agent sat in a hard plastic chair, his head pressed to the wall, eyes closed. Even without seeing them, Skinner knew they were red rimmed. The evidence of Mulder's tears streaked along his face and the bruised flesh under his eyes. 

"Agent Mulder."

Mulder sat up in his chair. His usual fluid movements were slow and heavy. 

"Sir."

The A.D. lowered his voice, but it remained firm. "When was the last time you slept . . . or ate, for that matter?"

The agent's eyes glazed over, his forehead lined in thought.

"Never mind. Your lack of response is answer enough."

At these words, Mulder leaned back against his chair, as if he been given leave to not answer any further questions. He was mistaken.

"How are you getting home tonight?" Skinner was sure he already knew the answer and was not going to like it. In preparation for his agent's response, his face tightened into a frown.

"I have my car." His apartment was still considered a crime scene, and so, for tonight, another anonymous motel room would be his home. He was surprised Skinner didn't mention it.

"You're in no shape to drive. I'll give you a ride."

About to protest, Mulder opened his mouth, but saw the unwavering glare Skinner was giving him, and closed it again. He was too tired to argue. It was hard to know who was more surprised - Mulder or Skinner.

"I have to stop by my car and pick up some things." He glanced at the door to Scully's room, saw it was still closed.

Skinner noticed his glance. "Her family is still in there. Did you want to say goodbye before we leave?"

Mulder considered this, wondered if being in the same room with Scully's brother, Bill, would be any less uncomfortable now than it was before. He decided not. "No, I'll be back tomorrow. She needs time with her family." He rose unsteadily, Skinner stepped near him, concerned the man would fall over. Mulder straightened his shoulders, and they turned towards the elevators.

The short walk to the elevators was made in silence. Skinner hated the smells of hospitals. Antiseptic, masking the odors of humans in distress, as if hiding their scent would hide their pain. Passing an open door, a moan broke through, following them to the elevator.

"Where is your car?"

"I'm parked in the garage, level 3. I can pick up my things and meet you at your car. Where are you?"

Skinner turned to the bank of elevator buttons, pressing number three, "I'm on the fifth level. I'll follow you to your car, and we can go on from there." 

The elevator deposited them on their floor. Each man was lost in his own thoughts as they made their way to the parking garage.

Although he wouldn't label Mulder as argumentative, he was, nonetheless, prone to questioning anything that resembled an order. Skinner knew some of what had occurred in the last few days, but he was sure this was just the tip of the iceberg. He was equally convinced that there was a snowball's chance in hell he was going to get the full story. How much of Mulder's trust did he have? He had been sure Mulder was going to name him as the traitor in the bureau. Although he hadn't, he still thought there were some doubts in the young man.

For his part, Mulder's mind raced over the events of the last few days. Try as he might, he couldn't shut down the images that came, unbidden. Despite the weariness that came from walking on the razor's edge for two days, he knew he wouldn't be sleeping tonight, couldn't allow himself to sleep. He wished he was going to his apartment. The thought of lying on his sofa, having something to put his back up against, something that, in some perverse way, made him feel sheltered, was appealing. If nothing else, maybe he could find a motel with a satellite dish and lots of channels to choose from. If he was going to be awake tonight, he wanted something that would help keep him from replaying the images bombarding his tattered mind.

Entering the parking garage, the chill of the October air leached into Mulder's bones. His warm breath collided with the cold air, leaving a visible trail of their meeting. Reaching his car, he dug the keys out of his coat. His hands shook, minutely, and he turned his back to his boss to keep him from seeing. He opened the door, dug out his duffel bag, locked and closed the door. The sound reverberated in the near empty garage.

Walter Skinner did not miss the shaking in his agent's hands but refrained from comment. It would be unwelcome. Instead, he turned towards the parking garage elevators to ride the two stories up to his car. Normally, Skinner would have used the stairs, taking the opportunity to get in some exercise. He didn't think Mulder had the energy to spare.

The A.D. walked with clipped, precise steps, not a wasteful movement made. The man beside him looked stiff, as if he were holding himself up by a sheer force of will. On the elevator, Skinner took the opportunity to observe the other man more closely. The harsh lighting made him look wan. Lines marred his usually smooth face. His suit hung on his lean frame, as if a size too big. The vitality that was as much a part of Mulder as his intelligence, was frighteningly absent.

Leaving the elevator, Skinner again wondered what events had conspired to leave this shell in Mulder's place. Reaching Skinner's car, both men seated themselves, buckling their seat belts. Mulder turned, finally breaking the quiet. "I can't go home. My apartment is still a crime scene. Just drop me off at the nearest motel on your way home."

Skinner nodded, wondering how he had forgotten that detail. It was possible that the apartment had been cleared, but the detritus of violence would remain. He started the car and pulled out of the garage. 

The darkness of the sky was relieved only by the street lights. Wishing, vainly, for complete darkness, Mulder laid his head against the seat and closed his eyes. He let the rhythm of the car soothe his nerves. 

Skinner drove smoothly through the streets. The late hour assured fewer cars, and easy passage through the city. He occasionally glanced over at Mulder, seeing him breathe evenly. He thought, with some grim humor, about stories he had heard from parents, driving their cranky children all over the city hoping they would fall asleep. It appeared that it worked on over-stressed F.B.I. agents as well.

He had passed several motels, all of which would have been suitable for Mulder's needs. He thought about that for a moment. What was it the man needed? If asked, the agent would likely name his usual doctrine - the truth. What did it mean to him? If it were simply a search for justice, right and wrong, Skinner might not question this. But The Truth was laden with so much personal history, Skinner doubted that his agent understood it fully himself.

The A.D. was not a man who pondered his own needs often. He had enough sense to know that a person's body had certain needs: shelter, food, rest. Meeting them was habit more than conscious thought. His own desire for justice could be considered a need. It was what had drawn him to law enforcement. It wasn't until he had almost lost his wife that he considered the need for relationships in his life. Her near death, and their eventual divorce, had made him reconsider the importance of sharing his life with someone. Their life together had long been about history rather than a purposeful movement towards a future. Yet, her absence left a void in his life. 

Did Mulder have those same needs? Even his body's most basic needs were often neglected in his pursuits. He would be surprised if Mulder could articulate his own needs. The man had an affinity for putting everything on hold for his obsession. Perhaps that was unfair. Mulder had certainly seemed to hold Scully in high esteem and, when threatened with losing her, did everything in his power to help her. Which made Skinner wonder just how much of himself the man would give up to save Scully; indeed, how much he had given up. Yet, Skinner sensed that even in this relationship, Mulder shared little of himself. He shared his mind, his beliefs, but Skinner guessed that much, if not everything Scully knew about Mulder came not from Mulder telling her, but from her own observations and intense contact with the man. Shaking himself from these thoughts, he noticed he was close to his apartment. His thoughts of Mulder had carried him home, without volition. 

He glanced over at Mulder and found his eyes were still closed. His breathing seemed more rapid, and his face had a pinched look to it, as if he were dreaming. Skinner thought briefly of turning around and going to the motel just a few blocks back. 

"Please Fox, let me go." Samantha's voice rang in Mulder's head. He took in a deep breath, as if gasping, and sat up abruptly. Only the seat belt kept his face from going into the dash board. He blinked his eyes and concentrated on smoothing out his breathing. Then he turned his attention to where he was. Turning to his left, he saw Skinner watching him, his lips down turned but concern in his eyes. He was still in the car. Then he noticed they were close to Skinner's apartment building. "Where are we going?" 

"My apartment. There's no sense in you staying in a motel when your apartment should be released soon. I have a spare bedroom you can use." It seemed a reasonable solution although he surprised himself by making the offer.

This was not a good idea. Mulder knew he wouldn't sleep well, had been planning on not sleeping at all, not if he could help it. His recent wake-up call reinforced his need to stay awake. What he didn't want was his boss near enough to hear his nightmares. Lying on a bed in the man's spare room with no T.V. was not going to help him stay awake.

"Sir, I appreciate the offer, but I would prefer to go to a motel."

"That's pointless Mulder. Why spend a hundred dollars on a room you're going to be checking out of in a few hours?"

Mulder struggled to come up with a rational answer to that without having to reveal too much. He felt off balance. Too much had happened, and he couldn't make sense of anything.

"Sir, I, ah, don't sleep well. I tend to pace, and I usually have a T.V. on in the background to help me sleep. I wouldn't want to keep you up." Damn, that was more than he wanted his boss to know.

"Mulder, I know a little about sleeping problems." Skinner glanced over at the man beside him, his eyes raised with a "have you forgotten so quickly" look.

"Thank you for the offer sir; I appreciate it." He avoided looking at his boss, gazing, instead, out the passenger window. This area was different from his own neighborhood. The streets were clean, no garbage marred the area. Street people were safely tucked away in alleys in other parts of the city. The few people who braved the cold and dark wore warm coats; moving briskly with a clear destination in sight. No street in D.C. was really safe; crime had permeated the city. Yet Mulder felt strangely safe here.

Skinner turned into his building's garage, shutting off the car. Just like the street outside, the garage was clean and quiet. No one besides the two men stirred in the cavernous room. They walked into the elevator, where Skinner pressed the button to his floor. The lighting was softer, the cold air kept at bay by the doors sliding closed.

Mulder leaned against the back wall and closed his eyes. His mind flooded with images, like waves, each one burying him deeper, helpless to stop them from washing over him:

Scully, lying in a hospital bed, dying; Cancerman offering him the answers - for a price; himself, in his apartment, a gun in his hand and despair; his sister, sitting across from him in a diner, telling him that she had her own life now; Blevins, asking him to name Skinner as the traitor; Scully, standing in a warehouse telling him "They gave me this disease to make you believe"; holding a blood splattered picture of a young boy and girl. Each image taking only seconds, before the next, and the next. As the images moved past his closed eyes, his breathing quickened. He tried desperately to slow it down. He felt off-balance. It was if he were standing on a rolling pier, trying to keep his balance but fighting the motion of the water with every shift, every step. 

The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival. They made their way to the apartment. Skinner unlocked the door and let Mulder in, closing and locking the door behind him. He turned on the light in the living room. "Are you hungry?" 

Mulder shook his head. His eyes traveled through the uncluttered living room, so unlike his own. The leather couch caught his attention, inviting him into its comforting embrace.

Skinner noticed the direction of Mulder's gaze. "I'll get some blankets for the couch. I have to warn you I don't get many channels on the T.V. I don't spend enough time here to invest in any cable or satellite services." He turned his lips up in a brief smile.

Mulder smiled back and said, "When necessary, I can watch infomercials all night long."

Skinner walked out of the room and Mulder placed his bag on the floor near the couch. He opened it, pulling out his sweat pants, an old t-shirt and clean briefs. When the other man returned with blankets he directed Mulder to the bathroom. 

Mulder walked towards the bathroom. "If you don't mind, I'd like to take a shower."

"Help yourself."

As Mulder left the room, Skinner dropped the sheets, blankets and pillow on the couch. If the truth be known, he was unsure how he had come to invite his agent to spend the night. Although not really uncomfortable with Mulder's presence, he wondered if he was crossing some line that would be difficult to renegotiate in the future. More discomforting was his awareness of a shifting in his own feelings toward the man. Feelings that would only complicate their already confusing relationship.

He heard the shower go on, began walking towards the kitchen, tripped over Mulder's bag. He muttered an expletive and bent down to right the bag, noticing a video tape had fallen onto the floor. Feeling like he was invading the man's privacy, he quickly retrieved it, planning to replace it in the bag. He stopped abruptly when he saw the label on the tape. "Mulder surveillance, October 15, 1997." The day of his agent's suicide. 

*************************************

Mulder returned from his shower, hair wet and his suit in his arms. He found Skinner sitting on the couch with a tape in his hand. Normally, he would have made some joke about his video collection. But then, maybe not. The look on Skinner's face told him that he was not in a joking mood.

"I don't remember you offering any testimony regarding the taped surveillance of your apartment."

Mulder stopped in his tracks. "I didn't." 

"Why did you keep this from the members of the hearing?"

"I didn't think it was important."

"You didn't think that proof of you being surveilled was important. That is not an acceptable answer, Mulder. I expect better from you."

"Well sir, we all have our off nights."

Mulder's attempt at lightening the mood failed, miserably.

"I want this tape labeled as evidence, Agent Mulder." Voice in full Assistant Director mode.

The tone made Mulder bristle "Sir, what's on that tape is no one's business but my own."

"Are you refusing a direct order?"

Mulder paused. 

"What's on this tape that you don't want anyone to see?"

Mulder continued to stand in the middle of the room. His shoulders tensed, then slumped. If Skinner had continued to order him, he might have been able to sustain his anger. He didn't know what to do with the concern in the man's voice. He was so tired, he didn't want to deal with this now, couldn't deal with this now.

"Sir, I would appreciate putting this discussion on hold. I'm tired, and I want to sleep."

"Mulder, we both know you aren't going to sleep tonight. I know a lot has happened, and you're struggling to assimilate all of the events of the last few days. However, if I put this discussion off, give you time to pull yourself together, the answer you give will be superficial and unsatisfactory. I prefer to have this discussion tonight, when I have a better chance of getting the full answer."

"Sir, I was under the impression that I was here as a guest." Some anger leaked into his voice, but it was hard to give it full merit; he knew he was caught. 

"You are a guest here. But I'm also your boss, and I've just discovered that you have been concealing evidence in an investigation. I can't, I won't ignore that."

Mulder crossed the room and sat heavily in the chair across from the couch, dropping his suit haphazardly on the chair back. God, this was never going to end. How could he explain what was on that tape? He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his legs, lowering his head into his hands.

Skinner waited, a feeling of unease moving over him. "Mulder, just say it, whatever it is."

Mulder looked up at the man across from him. He expected impatience but found confusion and some concern etching his boss' face. It happened all at once. The waves of images he had thought receded came tumbling back, covering him, making him gasp for breath. He couldn't get air into his lungs. Christ, he was drowning in the picture perfect images his mind had stored so efficiently. 

Skinner quickly crossed the room and gently pushed Mulder's head down between his knees. His face remained placid, in an attempt to keep his own feelings of tension and disquiet from surfacing. Time enough for that later.

Flashes of red and white screamed across Mulder's closed eyelids; for a moment, he thought he was going to pass out. Time passed. He felt his breathing even out, felt the dizziness and nausea take a step back. Awareness seeped back; Skinner's voice giving soft commands to breath slowly, a hand, rubbing slow circles on his back. He tried to sit up, but the hand pressed gently on his back to keep him where he was. After a few minutes, it stopped its gentle movements and was removed.

"Mulder, sit up, but go slow," a direction rather than command.

Mulder slowly brought his head up. Some resurgence of the nausea returned, but faded quickly. His face was white. 

Skinner stood up and left the room. He returned a minute later with a tumbler filled a quarter way with brown liquid.

"This is brandy. Just sip it."

Mulder reached for the glass, his hands still wavering. He held the glass until he could bring it to his lips without the tremor, sipped the liquid. The slow burn of the alcohol moved down his throat. He took another sip, then finished off the liquid in a gulp. He coughed once, placed the glass on the floor and settled back against the chair.

Skinner waited, standing by the chair. "Mulder, I don't know what's on this tape, but it's obviously upsetting to you." He turned and sat back on the couch, to give the man some room. "If you'd prefer, I can watch the tape and then we can discuss it's contents later."

Mulder felt like a fool. When he spoke, his voice was stronger, hinting at the anger he felt, although it was more for himself than the A.D. 

"No sir, if you insist on knowing what's on that tape, then I'll tell you."

"Okay, Mulder. Start when you're ready."

Mulder looked up at his boss, pushing back his feelings, attempting to shape his face into a mix of insurgence and disinterest. The muscles of his face took on the shape without effort, but it never made it to his eyes. It was difficult to worry about mundane things, like a job, when his life's purpose had walked out the door of a diner without a glance back. So, what did he have to lose? As much as he wanted to deny it, he wanted Skinner's respect. It was an uncommon feeling for him... and uncomfortable. He had steeled himself throughout his life to ignore the opinions of others, about him and his work. Yet, he respected Skinner, and although his paranoia often got the better of him, he had come to trust him as well. He wondered briefly when Skinner's respect had begun to matter to him. His mind was too confused to try and work that one out tonight.

"You know a lot of what happened that night. Kritsgau testified to most of it. At the warehouse, after finding the dead bodies and the alien corpse missing, Scully and I had a . . . disagreement. She believed Kritsgau's story." Up to this point, Mulder's tone had taken on the impersonal voice of an agent giving a report. But as he continued, his voice took on the emotion hinted at in his narrative. 

 "I couldn't believe that after everything we'd seen, she would believe a stranger's story. I asked her what it was that made her believe him, and not me." Mulder looked up briefly to see Skinner watching and listening. He continued. "She said that he told her she had been given this disease to make me believe the lies." He paused, waiting to see if Skinner understood.

"She told you that she had this disease that was killing her, because of you." Skinner's voice was calm, non-judgmental. Inside he was seething. He was furious at the machinations that continued to batter his agents. Of all the things that they could have suggested to this man, this was the cruelest.

"Yes." Said so softly, Skinner almost missed it. Mulder continued, in a louder voice. "I had always felt responsible. I knew that the cancer was a result of her abduction. And you know how I feel about that." Mulder looked up. He saw that Skinner understood all too well.

"When I got back to my apartment, it all came crashing down. I kept hearing Kritsgau's voice saying it was all an elaborate lie. Then I heard the words again, but in Scully's voice. It made them familiar... true. Everything that I believed felt like a lie. Worse, my own stupidity, my own vain attempt to give meaning to my life, had not only caused me misery, but had caused Scully to be dying. In one night I had lost everything. Without my beliefs, who was I? What meaning did my life have?"

Mulder looked up again. He needed to see if he was going to have to say the words. He saw the realization in his boss's face. Stopping, he lowered his head back onto his hands and waited.

Skinner was now pretty sure what was on the tape, but he needed to be sure.

"Mulder, are you saying you were planning on killing yourself that night?"

"Yes," spoken into his hands.

"What stopped you?"

Mulder looked up, smiled sadly for a moment. "The phone rang. I'm still not sure why I answered it. I was so close. It was Kritsgau calling to tell me he thought that someone was watching me. I looked up, and I saw it. Don't ask me how, but there it was. I ran upstairs, and you know the rest."

Skinner stood and walked over to his agent. He sat on the coffee table in front of Mulder's chair and looked at him with steady eyes.

"Why did you keep the tape?"

Mulder looked confused for a moment. "I haven't had a chance to get rid of it."

Skinner looked at him hard. "That is the weakest answer I ever expect to hear from you. Mulder, you are brilliant and, given the smallest clues of a crime, you can profile a killer down to his eye color and shoe size. But when it comes to figuring yourself out, you are resolutely unaware."

Mulder continued to look into Skinner's eyes. He knew what Skinner was implying. He thought it through and couldn't deny that there might be some truth to it, although he was unwilling, or maybe unable, to admit to that right now.

"What are you going to do?"

"About the tape?"

Mulder nodded.

"I don't know. I need time to think. I understand why you don't want anyone to see it but if I don't make you turn it in then I'm as guilty as you of concealing evidence."

Skinner knew Mulder had done exactly that just a short time back to save his ass. 

"Sir, you know what I want. But don't do this because you think you owe me." 

As usual, when it came to understanding the motivations of others, Mulder hit the nail on the proverbial head. It was unsettling to have someone read you so well. But owing Mulder was only part of the problem. He liked this man, respected him, and more disconcerting than all he had just heard, he realized he cared about him. The realization that Mulder had almost ended his life, left an empty feeling inside of him. He felt a shuddering breath move through him. Things had just gotten very complicated.

**************************

Walter Skinner took a long, deep breath. Numerous thoughts ran through his head, one after another. "I want him" was quickly followed by, "This is insane". Then the reprisals, "This is wrong, he's too vulnerable to even think about doing this", followed by, "God, you don't even know if he'd be interested".

Mulder watched as the red flush worked it's way across the other man's cheeks, and liquid heat burned his eyes. Without thinking, he leaned forward and touched his lips to Skinner's. It was a gentle touch, but filled with want. Pushing back, he searched for a reaction to his impulsiveness.

The kiss had slammed Skinner's heart into his chest. It had been a long time since he felt such desire. Every nerve in his body tingled from that brief touch. Not a man prone to capricious action, he tried to regain some composure before facing Mulder. 

Mulder reddened, both from arousal and embarrassment. When Skinner didn't say anything, he assumed he had made a big mistake. His face neutral, showing no signs of his distress, "I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have done that. Considering the circumstances, I think it best I leave." He started to rise.

Upon seeing this, Skinner leaned over the chair to keep the man in his chair. Mulder sat back, anger and embarrassment warring in his eyes.

"Why are you sorry, Mulder? You only did what I wanted to do." He leaned in slowly, giving Mulder a chance to stop him. He suckled at the bottom lip, gently. Gradually, Mulder's lips parted, eliciting a moan from Skinner. He opened his mouth and took all of the younger man's mouth he could, deepening the kiss. He felt Mulder's tongue tentatively move towards his mouth, he shifted to encourage him. Soon both men were taking turns, investigating, probing each other's mouths. Taking their time, learning the contours and depths of the other. 

Skinner leaned back and looked at the man across from him. "Mulder, you're overwhelmed right now with all that's gone on. I don't want you doing something that you're going to regret later."

Mulder's eyes burned with passionate intensity. He crooked a small smile and said, "I know what I want." He leaned forward, kissing the other man with every ounce of feeling he had left.

Skinner grabbed his hand and pulled him up. They stood inches apart and with a suddenness belying his earlier fatigue, Mulder wrapped his arm around Skinner's waist and pulled him in, bringing them into contact. He kissed the other man again, this time more gently, but with the same focus and intensity that he brought to all his passions. They stood, kissing each other for a long time, breaking apart to get air, then coming together again. Finally, Skinner pushed himself away, leading the way to the bedroom.

They stopped near the edge of the bed, and Skinner turned to face the other man. Although Mulder was handsome, he knew that his attraction to him encompassed more than his looks. Looking at the man he saw a burning intelligence, a driving passion, a commitment to justice and a basic goodness that was uncommon. He knew that Mulder was acting out of a need to forget. He didn't kid himself that Mulder had the same level of feeling for him. For tonight, he was willing to be this man's safe harbor. Someone who would drive away the memories and the pain. He hoped he wouldn't regret it too much.

Skinner moved his hand and touched Mulder's cheek, caressing it, taking his time, enjoying the feel of Mulder's skin against the palm of his hand. 

Mulder closed his eyes and reveled in the feeling. The comfort he took in the other man's touch surprised him. It felt like he was drawing strength into him. He opened his eyes. This man had come to mean so much to him. He wondered briefly if he had been aware of the physical attraction earlier and ignored it, decided it didn't matter. Admittedly, Skinner wasn't his usual type. Of course, considering his usual type were individuals who would rip his heart out and hand it to him while it was still beating, he didn't think this was a bad thing. He smiled to himself. That was a bit of an overstatement. But still, he found a strange comfort in knowing that Skinner was unlike anyone else he was attracted to previously. He had a strong moral sensibility, a firm sense of self, and an honesty that, at times, was blunt, but always with good intent. If the truth be known, it was what eventually won over Mulder's trust. The man really did have a habit of saying what was on his mind. 

Mulder reached over, putting his hand behind Skinner's neck, and pulled him in for a kiss. The hand at his cheek, moved down to his waist, slipped to his lower back, bringing their hips together. Each man groaned into the other's mouth, and they began to thrust, moving their hips together, feeding the passion, and bringing themselves to a frenzy of feeling. 

Skinner skimmed his hands around Mulder's waist, pushing up the t-shirt, removing his mouth from Mulder's just long enough to lift the shirt over his head. When his mouth returned, he nibbled on the other man's lips, savoring their flavor. His hands smoothed their way up the man's chest. Finding his target, he fingered the nipples until he heard the other man's moan. 

Mulder pushed in to intensify the contact. His own hands kept busy, removing the A.D.'s jacket, unbuttoning his shirt, and then tugging the tails out of the man's pants, to have full access to what lay beneath. Putting both palms on the other man's firm chest, he guided them up to the shoulders and then pulled the shirt down, letting it fall to the floor.

Skinner had to remove his hands during this maneuver. When he had free use of this hands again, he moved them to Mulder's back, exploring the muscles in his shoulders and back. He felt firm and so good. His survey continued, eventually moving his hands over Mulder's buttocks and bringing their hips back into contact. He hissed through his teeth and felt his arousal grow. His hands found their way into the other man's pants and boxers, feeling the smooth skin of Mulder's ass. He kneaded the muscles, feeling them tense and relax, as the other man began thrusting his hips in earnest. Leaning into Mulder, he pushed him back onto the bed. Mulder kept his arms around Skinner, bringing the other man down on top of him. His legs, hanging over the side of the bed, opened, so that Skinner could fit himself between them. 

Hands and lips began the exploration of new and coveted territory. Wanting to feel all of the man beneath him, Skinner pushed up, standing between Mulder's legs. He began to unbuckle his belt, but Mulder pushed his hands away and unbuckled, unbuttoned and unzipped with lightening speed. Shifting his hands, he skimmed the pants and briefs down until they reached the other man's shoes. Skinner slipped out of his shoes, toed off his socks and removed his pants with spare movements. 

Mulder took a moment to look at the erect man before him, starting at his head and moving down to his feet, then brought his gaze back to the hard cock in front of him. He touched it, lightly, then encircled it with his hand, putting just the tip into his mouth. Skinner groaned. Mulder began a slow in and out movement with his mouth. He traced his tongue over the tip, teasing it until he could taste the essence of the man. Drawing the flesh further into his mouth, he began a rhythm of sucking and licking, his only thought to bring as much pleasure as possible to the man before him. His teeth scraped against the length of the cock and then moved back in to take the full length of it into his mouth. Skinner moaned again and pushed at Mulder's shoulders. Mulder leaned back with a questioning glance.

"If you keep doing that, I'm going to come."

Mulder smiled. "Would that be so bad? After all, that is the point."

Skinner smiled back. "At least let's get your pants off."

Mulder lifted his hips off the bed while Skinner pulled off the elastic-waisted sweat pants and boxers. 

Mulder said, "Just one of the advantages of sweats, easy on and off."

Skinner's voice, rough with desire, "I prefer them off."

"So do I."

Skinner leaned in to give Mulder another kiss. Just a quick one before kneeling down and taking Mulder's cock in his mouth. Mulder gasped, and lifted his hips, almost choking Skinner. Moving his hands to Mulder's hips, he kept the man from any more sudden movements. His mouth began teasing the tip, his tongue flicking at the head and then sucking hard. Mulder was sweating, trying to move his hips to intensify the contact, but Skinner's hands kept his movements to a minimum. Mulder leaned back on the bed, letting Skinner lead. Closing his eyes, he let the sensations of the other man's mouth fill him, until he thought he would come. And then the mouth was gone. He opened his eyes to see Skinner stand and lean over him, slowly bringing his body down until they were chest to chest. Skinner brought his hand down and held both their cocks together, while they began to move. The sensations running through both men had them both quickly coming to the edge. 

Mulder stopped, and Skinner glanced at him. "Is something wrong?"

"No, but if we keep doing this, I'm going to come."

Skinner smiled, "Isn't that the point?"

Mulder lifted his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. "You need some original material. I want you inside me."

Hearing those words coming out of that sensual mouth had Skinner breathing hard. He pushed himself off Mulder and walked over to the night stand, removing the lubricant and a condom.

"I bet you were a boy scout." 

"And I bet you weren't."

Mulder laughed with self depreciation, "You'd win that bet."

Skinner walked over to the man and brought his palm to his cheek. "That wasn't an insult, Mulder."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to put a damper on the evening." He smiled and then brought his hand out to stroke Skinner's cock. "Keep going."

Skinner pulled Mulder up for another kiss. When he released the man's lips, he reached around him and pulled the covers down the bed. Mulder started to lie on his stomach. 

Skinner stopped him. "No, lie on your back."

Mulder complied and Skinner joined him, lying to one side. He leaned on an elbow, letting his other hand roam over Mulder's body. He was like a blind man, learning braille for the first time. He wanted to memorize every line, every curve. He took his time, reading the body, attentive to every twitch.

All cognition had disappeared. Warmth flooded his body. There were no words, just sensation. If he had been able to find the words, Mulder might have said he felt revered. 

Skinner leaned in for a kiss, taking the same care to explore. The other man spread his legs, so Skinner could lie between them. Hands moving, hips thrusting, each man giving and receiving pleasure.

Mulder moaned, wanting, needing more. Skinner slid down the other man's body until his head was at Mulder's cock. Leaning over, he kissed it. Reaching for the lube, he squeezed some onto his hand. He let it warm and then moved a finger to Mulder's anus. He touched the opening, moving his finger in small circles, slowly adding pressure until the finger entered the other man's body. Skinner brought his mouth onto the other's cock, teasing the head, while sliding his finger in and out. Mulder groaned and shifted, bending his legs and spreading them, to give Skinner more room to work. Removing his finger, Skinner added more lube pushed in with two fingers. He entered slowly at first, not wanting to hurt Mulder. The man was tight, but he opened eagerly and soon Skinner's fingers were gliding in and out with ease. 

Mulder was writhing on the bed, his body, arms and legs moving and twitching. His moans were continuous. "Please, now."

Skinner withdrew his fingers and knelt. Opening the condom, he rolled it over his straining erection, adding lube. He wanted Mulder so badly. He couldn't wait to feel that tight hole around his cock. Taking a deep steadying breath, he lifted Mulder's legs to his shoulders and leaned over. One hand rested next to Mulder while the other guided his cock to Mulder's entrance. He pressed, feeling the tip of his cock engulfed by Mulder's flesh. With his second thrust, his whole length was swallowed by heat.

"Yes." Mulder's voice, soft, the sound of a thankful prayer.

Looking at the man beneath him, he saw Mulder breathing hard, sweat glistening on his upper lip and chest, his eyes gleaming with passion. Skinner leaned in for a kiss. Then he began to rock. Slowly at first, but as he felt Mulder thrusting with him, his strokes became longer and harder. God, he couldn't remember anything feeling so good in a long time. Both men began to quicken the pace, pushing harder and faster. 

Mulder tightened the grip of his legs on Skinner, pushing with all his strength, lifting himself onto the man's cock as it thrust into him. He felt the movement of Skinner's length tight inside him. He wanted it all; he wanted more. He thrust harder, moving up and down, straining his legs to get a better purchase. He didn't want it to stop. He felt Skinner's hand encircle his cock, sliding it up and down, in synch with the hard thrusts in his ass.

Mulder felt the first signs of his impending orgasm. His balls pulled up, every nerve singing; and then he came. Cum spurted out over both men's chests, the contractions lifting him up, taking all of Skinner's cock that he could. His back arched off the bed, his legs holding on with every ounce of strength they had left, until he felt the other man's release. He heard a loud groan and felt a final thrust, hard and demanding.

Both men sagged as their orgasms released them. Mulder pulled his legs off of the other man's shoulders, and Skinner collapsed on top of him, breathing hard. Mulder's hand worked up and down the other man's back, smoothing the muscles, until he felt his breathing become more normal.

They came together for a kiss. A kiss designed not to drive them forward into passion, but to forge them in the present. A kiss of what was, rather than what could be. Skinner slowly pulled out of Mulder, carefully removed the condom, threw it in the container by the bed. Lying down, he stroked the other man's arms and chest.

Mulder spoke first. "I don't remember sex ever being this good."

Skinner smiled. "Well, you either have a very bad memory, or you just gave me a compliment." He gave Mulder another kiss. Reaching over, he snagged the sheet and comforter, covering them both. Mulder rested his head on Skinner's chest, his hand playing lightly over the other man's chest, brushing at the coarse hair and teasing his nipples. 

" I've found that my memory is flawless. So I guess you'll have to take it as a compliment."

Skinner put his arm around the younger man's back, pulling him closer. "I'm glad. I'd hate to think I was the only one who enjoyed himself."

Mulder smiled, leaving no doubt about his pleasure. Skinner laid his chin against the top of Mulder's head and closed his eyes. He began to feel the younger man relax against him and hoped he would be able to sleep tonight. His last thought before drifting off was it was going to be harder than he thought to let go of Mulder in the morning. Life just kept getting more complicated.

************************************

The End

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